So, in the UK today and for the rest of the week, spending time at the ICE conference. Which is generally exhausting, as you might expect. So I'm not sure what responses the prompts will get this week, and they might be a bit delayed from time to time :)
Traces "Mineral oil," said Mar. "Traces of robot sex, I expect." "Goodness," said Isabelle Atrix. She was ninety-four, had a blue rinse through her white hair and a nose piercing. She looked at the sticky brown puddle on the floor, and then at Mar's bum which was up in the air as he bent over to examine the mess. "I didn't know robots had sex Mr. Coquan." "They don't have sex in public," said Mar. "They're rather prudish really. But yes, it's how new robots get made." "Well I never! I always thought they were made in factories. Of course, I'm probably a little old to remember exactly how sex works, you know." "Factories are what the general public are led to believe," said Mar, standing up again. His brain caught up with his ears. "What?" "Perhaps you could educate me?" "Definitely not," said Mar, suppressing a shudder. "I'm a police officer, ma'am, not a... training coach. I would suggest you try tennis." "I wore my tennis coach out," said Isabelle, winking. Mar's skin-tight suit suddenly felt like not-enough cover and he started to wish that the police in this sector wore trench-coats. "I need to go and try and find these perverted robots, ma'am," he said. "Would you mind if I looked around the rest of the house? To check for evidence?" He paused, and then thought about what the likely responses would be. "Alone," he added. "What is the robot is still here? It might surprise you, and no-one would know." "That's a risk I'll have to take, ma'am," he said. "We're not allowed to endanger the public, no matter how thrilling they might find it." "Shame," muttered Isabelle, as Mar hastened through a door into another room.
Mar, of course, was only there to liberate jewels, money and any small trinkets of exceptional value, but as he quickly and methodically worked his way through Isabelle's belongings, he found himself wondering about the mineral oil. He'd been lying about the robots having sex, but it was still strange to find that there. He paused, earrings dangling from his fingers, and wondered for a moment what Isabelle might be up to herself. The doorbell sounded, and he put the earrings in a zippable pocket and darted to the room's door to eavesdrop. "Oh officer! Your colleague is already here!" Isabelle sounded happy, which Mar was certain was not a good sign. "I think he's in the bedroom. You can go and find him, I haven't tied him up. Yet." Mar swore inside his head, and looked for traces of escape.
This is all sorts of fun, even with the naming of your main character :P Enjoyed how things played out, with the reveal and then the arrival of the actual police.
2 comments:
So, in the UK today and for the rest of the week, spending time at the ICE conference. Which is generally exhausting, as you might expect. So I'm not sure what responses the prompts will get this week, and they might be a bit delayed from time to time :)
Traces
"Mineral oil," said Mar. "Traces of robot sex, I expect."
"Goodness," said Isabelle Atrix. She was ninety-four, had a blue rinse through her white hair and a nose piercing. She looked at the sticky brown puddle on the floor, and then at Mar's bum which was up in the air as he bent over to examine the mess. "I didn't know robots had sex Mr. Coquan."
"They don't have sex in public," said Mar. "They're rather prudish really. But yes, it's how new robots get made."
"Well I never! I always thought they were made in factories. Of course, I'm probably a little old to remember exactly how sex works, you know."
"Factories are what the general public are led to believe," said Mar, standing up again. His brain caught up with his ears. "What?"
"Perhaps you could educate me?"
"Definitely not," said Mar, suppressing a shudder. "I'm a police officer, ma'am, not a... training coach. I would suggest you try tennis."
"I wore my tennis coach out," said Isabelle, winking. Mar's skin-tight suit suddenly felt like not-enough cover and he started to wish that the police in this sector wore trench-coats.
"I need to go and try and find these perverted robots, ma'am," he said. "Would you mind if I looked around the rest of the house? To check for evidence?" He paused, and then thought about what the likely responses would be. "Alone," he added.
"What is the robot is still here? It might surprise you, and no-one would know."
"That's a risk I'll have to take, ma'am," he said. "We're not allowed to endanger the public, no matter how thrilling they might find it."
"Shame," muttered Isabelle, as Mar hastened through a door into another room.
Mar, of course, was only there to liberate jewels, money and any small trinkets of exceptional value, but as he quickly and methodically worked his way through Isabelle's belongings, he found himself wondering about the mineral oil. He'd been lying about the robots having sex, but it was still strange to find that there. He paused, earrings dangling from his fingers, and wondered for a moment what Isabelle might be up to herself.
The doorbell sounded, and he put the earrings in a zippable pocket and darted to the room's door to eavesdrop.
"Oh officer! Your colleague is already here!" Isabelle sounded happy, which Mar was certain was not a good sign. "I think he's in the bedroom. You can go and find him, I haven't tied him up. Yet."
Mar swore inside his head, and looked for traces of escape.
Greg - no worries! Have... fun?
This is all sorts of fun, even with the naming of your main character :P Enjoyed how things played out, with the reveal and then the arrival of the actual police.
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